


Silence

by soulless_lover



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: D'aww, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_lover/pseuds/soulless_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormented by horrific nightmares, Ciel turns to the only person who brings him comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

_Noise. Shouting. His own voice, calling out. It's so loud, the roar of the fire; it hurts his ears, even as the heat singes the edges of his jacket, the tips of his hair. Sometimes, in the mornings, his father will hand him the pages of the newspaper he's finished with, and he'll study the articles, too, just like his father - he must learn this job eventually, anyway - and in every one involving a fire, the surviving witnesses always mention the choking heat, the smoke, the brightness. No one ever mentions the roar of the flames, the cracking of timbers, the crash of weakened ceilings coming down; no one ever says anything about how deafeningly loud it is, this fire that's swallowing his house like thousands of greedy serpents, twisting and licking and devouring. He'll have to ask his father why--_

_His father._

_His father in a chair, just behind that door, that door he doesn't want to open, because he knows, he **knows**..._

_The doorknob slowly begins to turn, and he's afraid, so afraid; he knows it's his father, burnt down to bones and his rings, perhaps a few innards or shreds of muscle; he doesn't want to see, doesn't want to remember his handsome father, his kind smile, that little birthmark under his eye, burnt up like a suckling pig at dinner, no no he doesn't, but the doorknob is turning, turning, the door slowly begins to creak open--_

Ciel sits up in bed, screaming, his hair damp and curling from the sweat pouring from him; his room is still and dark and quiet, as if the fire had never eaten it.

"Young Master?" It's Sebastian, standing in the doorway, a candelabrum in his hand. "Are you all right?" The candlelight flickers over his face in yellows and reds and oranges, reminding him so much of...

"Sebastian."

"Yes?" The demon tilts his head, his eyes glowing softly. "Young Master, what is it? Have you had another nightmare?" He clucks his tongue in that disapproving way that Ciel both hates and adores for exactly the same reason. "I warned you not to read those horror novels before bed."

"Shut up," Ciel snaps, wiping his forehead. He wants to shout at his butler for his impudence and annoying I-told-you-so-ness, but he can't, because he's so, so glad Sebastian's there, looking so calm and reassuring in his black tailcoat and trousers, his white shirt crisp and neat, his hair gleaming in the light.

"Very well, if there's nothing you need..." Sebastian bows and begins to back out of the room. So proper.

"Sebastian!" Damn it, he hadn't meant it to come out so sharply, so panicked. "Wait."

The butler pauses, steps back through the doorway. "Yes?"

"Stay." He realizes he sounds as though he's commanding a dog, and almost laughs, but instead finds himself adding, "Come here."

Sebastian makes a sound that's somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, a soft little noise that normally irritates Ciel, but it seems so warm and gentle just now, a sound the Earl would call affectionate if he believed the demon were capable of such a feeling. He walks over to the bed and stands beside it, looking down at Ciel with a questioning expression; receiving no other order, he prompts, "Young Master?"

"I said come here," the boy says, and scoots over. "Here." He pats the bed beside him.

Sebastian blinks, then smiles. "As you wish." He sits on the bed, setting the candelabrum aside on the night-table; he notices the sheets are cold and damp in the spot where he's sitting, and is vaguely annoyed that he'll have to wash his clothing, lest he smell of sweat and fear, but the look on his contractor's face and the aching vulnerability it belies calls out to him and pulls him closer. He forgets about his impending visit to the laundry and focuses instead on those wide, mismatched eyes that are studying his face with such probing clarity, such prickly fragility. "What is it?"

Ciel's gaze drops to the coverlet; the embroidery never seemed so fascinating before, and he's sure the demon can tell his face is burning with embarrassment, but if he doesn't summon his courage now, he'll never get back to sleep, and he'll lie awake all night.

_The door opening, opening, his father, burnt but still alive, his jaw opening, all bone and gristle..._

The boy reaches out with one arm and wraps it around Sebastian's narrow waist. "Stay here." His face is buried against the butler's ribs in the desperate hope of hiding the crimson color in his cheeks, and for some moments he sits there like that, waiting for some response. Getting none, he is filled with hatred for the cold, unfeeling demon he's stupidly invited into his bed - and for himself, for thinking Sebastian could know what he needs, for believing a devil capable of kindness at all, for needing that kindness to begin with. 

He's just about to let go and move away when a strong arm wraps around his small, shaking body and envelops him in a reassuring embrace. 

Sebastian says nothing, only holds him with surprising gentleness, and when Ciel tightens his grip around the demon's waist and pulls slightly, he toes off his spotless black shoes and brings his legs up onto the bed, lying back on the pillows beside the boy.

They stay that way for several minutes, until finally the little Earl whispers: "Sebastian."

"Yes?" The demon's voice is respectfully low, not quite a whisper, but a soft, deep purr of sound, responding to Ciel's unspoken wish for quiet.

"Put out the light."

Sebastian does as he's told, and the room is plunged into welcome darkness; Ciel's arm shifts slightly, and he's suddenly snuggled up against the butler's side, his head resting just above Sebastian's right hipbone.

"Stay here tonight," the boy murmurs, his voice barely audible even to the demon's supernatural hearing.

Sebastian strokes Ciel's hair, lightly, gently. "Yes, my lord."

The moon peeks through the slight part in the closed curtains, its blue light seeming to cool the dark room; Sebastian's body is solid and sturdy and safe, his embrace warm; the bed is soft and comfortable; and in the waistcoat-pocket beneath Ciel's left ear, Sebastian's watch calmly counts off the seconds like a heartbeat: _tick... tock... tick... tock._

The noise is gone, the flames are burnt out; he may never know genuine peace again, but for now, Ciel's world is silent and still, and he's so tired that it's too much effort to even worry about whether or not Sebastian will tease him later for this moment of weakness. He's not even sure he cares, because he's so grateful for the devil's presence and the inviolable ring of his arms that's he's willing to allow for a bit of genial mocking. Slowly, he drifts off to sleep, his breathing becoming deep and even, his expression softening almost into a smile.

"Goodnight, Young Master. Pleasant dreams."


End file.
